Page:Banks o' the Devon (1).pdf/5

Rh Cruel remembrance, ah! why wilt thou rack me, Brooding o’er joys tha forever are flown! Cruel remembrance, in pity forsake me, Flee to some bosom where grief is unknown.

M an’ is the night, No a starnstar [sic] in a’ the carry, Lightnings gleam a thwart the lift And winds drive wi’ winter’s fury.

O are ye sleeping Maggie, O are ye sleeping, Maggie, Let me in, for loud the linn Is roaring o’er the warlock craigie.

Fearfu’ soughs the boor-tree bank. The rifted wood roars wild an’ dreary, Loud the iron yett does And cry o’ howlets maks me eerie. O are ye sleeping, &c.

Aboon my breath I darena speak, For fear I rouse your waukrife daddy,